Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire

amount of understanding in the world could erase the awful facts.
    Her patient had died of a treatable illness, leaving a little boy without his mother.
    Feeling hollow inside, she sat in the empty office, listening to the thunk-thunk of the old printer as it spit out page after page. When the screen saver came on, she swiped her cheeks and pushed up the sleeve of her Patagonia to check her watch. Ten minutes and counting. She needed to move, couldn’t sit on her duff waiting for shock to fade and her brain to reboot. The receptionist would be back soon. Better to take the printouts and—
    Laughter sounded in the hallway.
    Myst froze, hearing the metallic snick of the knob and the hiss of hinges as the door opened and the voices grew louder. She caught a glimpse of a white doctor’s coat. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed Caroline’s file from the printer tray. As she stuffed the pages in her bag, she made a beeline around the desk edge.
    God help her. They were back early, and she was in a whole mess of trouble.

     
    The precinct smelled like burnt coffee and bad attitudes. The first made Angela’s stomach churn. The second, she understood, because…hey. She was the biggest source of stay-the-hell-away in the open space she shared with the other SPD detectives.
    Reading the signs, no one spoke to her. Although, a couple of the braver ones arched eyebrows, throwing speculative looks her way. Yeah, inquiring minds wanted to know. Hers included. She couldn’t remember a flipping thing from last night.
    Okay. Not quite true. Her memory was tossing out a couple of tidbits: pale blue eyes and the letter R.
    R. Angela frowned. Was it the beginning of a name? An address?
    Slumped in her chair, she rubbed her forehead and watched the flurry of activity through her lashes. Per usual, the bullpen was hopping: guys talking on the phone, shuffling paperwork or typing more up, drinking the sludge they called coffee. She’d wait, thank you very much. No way that stuff was hitting the bottom of her stomach. Not if she wanted to keep it down.
    She felt Mac’s presence before she saw him. Like always, he blew in like a hurricane, scaring the residents, making them pack up their stuff and hit the road. With a smile, she watched the mass exodus, appreciating the noise reduction as the other detectives suddenly found something more important to do.
    Her partner set a Starbucks down on her desk blotter.
    “Bless you,” she murmured, reaching for the cup of joe. “Long night?” Perched on the corner of her desk, he took a sip of his coffee.
    A creature of habit, he ordered the same thing every time: extra large black, no cream, no sugar. Angela liked the predictability. Night or day. It didn’t matter. Comfort existed in their caffeine ritual, and she never deviated either, always went for a latté, heavy on the steamed milk.
    Taking a sip, she sighed and settled back in her chair. “Yeah.”
    He grinned. “About time you had some fun. Anybody I know?”
    Good question. One she couldn’t answer and since admitting that wasn’t an option, she lied, “No guy involved.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    She glared at him. “You think I’d be this pissy if I’d gotten laid?”
    “Depends on the guy.” Enjoying the tease, Mac’s blue eyes twinkled as he shrugged. “If he wasn’t any good—”
    “Oh, shut up.” Plunking her coffee down on her desk, she reached for a manila file folder. “Tell me what we’ve got today.”
    Mac’s expression got serious in a hurry. “Just came from the lab.”
    “Body count?”
    “I didn’t kill any of the idiots,” he said, enough growl in his voice to register on the animal kingdom’s sliding scale.
    “Bravo, Mac.” When he snorted, she smiled. Score one for team Angela in the payback department. Freaking guy…asking her whether she’d gotten some action last night. “Welcome to the civilized world.”
    “They lost the ash samples, Ange.”
    She blinked. What ash samples? They had…holy hell. Her brain was in serious misfire mode if she couldn’t remember a running tally of the evidence. What had happened last night? Something strange. Something…
    God. Why couldn’t she remember?
    Combing a hand through his dark hair, Mac pushed away from her desk edge and headed for his own. Jammed up against hers, their work spaces faced off, and as he sat down, she met his gaze. “The stuff’s not there. It’s like—”
    “Someone took them?”
    “Exactly, but there’s no evidence of